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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25106839">you look perfect</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoinkstothemax/pseuds/zoinkstothemax'>zoinkstothemax</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shameless (US)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, M/M, Wedding Fluff, ian misses Monica and loves Mickey what else is new, literally just fluff that is it</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:14:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>750</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25106839</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoinkstothemax/pseuds/zoinkstothemax</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Another S10 missing scene !! Ian and Mickey’s wedding dance, Ian’s sad and Mickey’s a good husband 🥺</p><p>This is my second fic ever pls be gentle!!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ian Gallagher &amp; Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>122</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>you look perfect</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“I should probably go dance with my husband,” Ian says softly, as he watches Mickey look around for him. Fuck, he loves him. His </span>
  <span class="s3"><em>husband</em>. </span>
  <span class="s2">Holy shit.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">He catches Mickey’s eye and moves to wrap him up in his arms, needing his grounding touch, and feels Mickey nuzzle his face in his neck and inhale. He’s sure he smells like sweat and beer and smokes, but, well. Mickey likes how he smells.</span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“You good?” Mickey asks, and Ian breathes out shakily.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“Yeah. I just - I miss my mom. It’s dumb, I dunno, I just feel like she would’ve loved today. Loved you.”</span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Mickey pulls back to search Ian’s face. “Hey, that’s not fuckin’ dumb, quit it. She would’ve. Probably would’ve schemed her way into some other venue or some shit.”</span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">Ian huffs out a laugh and presses their foreheads together, closing his eyes as they sway back and forth gently. “Yeah, probably,” he says gently, willing the tears behind his eyelids to fuck off - he’s supposed to be happy today, and he </span>
  <span class="s3"><em>is</em>, </span>
  <span class="s2">but he doesn’t think the ache of grieving Monica will ever really go away, no matter how happy he is. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">They fall into a quiet dance, and as Ian notes for the first time the lyrics to the cheesy song playing, he feels those tears coming back. </span>
  <em>
    <span class="s3">We were just kids when we fell in love</span>
  </em>
  <span class="s2">. And holy <em>fuck</em> is that true, as memories of two scared and closeted kids sneaking around and constantly missing each other flood his mind. </span>
  <em>
    <span class="s3">You’re nothing but a warm mouth to me </span>
  </em>
  <span class="s2">and </span>
  <em>
    <span class="s3">you love me and you’re gay </span>
  </em>
  <span class="s2">and <em>that’s a dumbass fucking move, </em></span>
  <em>
    <span class="s3">how long? </span>
  </em>
  <span class="s2">and </span>
  <em>
    <span class="s3">of course we are </span>
  </em>
  <span class="s2">and </span>
  <em>
    <span class="s3">it means we take care of each other</span>
  </em>
  <span class="s2">. So much of their time together is hazy in his mind, muddled by illness and trauma and drugs, but they’ve always loved each other. They’ve always needed each other, they’ve always come back to each other. And now that they’re here, in their tuxes and matching rings and surrounded by family, he knows this was always inevitable.</span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“Fuck, I love you so much, Mick,” he whispers shakily, a couple tears escaping down his cheeks, and Mickey pulls back to look him in the eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“I love you,” he whispers back, and reaches up to wipe the tears from Ian’s cheeks before scratching his fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck. “You sure you’re okay? We can fuck off whenever you know, it’s our party,” he teases with a smile, and Ian loves him so much his chest actually aches.</span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“Soon, I think. I like this song.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“Corny motherfucker,” Mickey teases with a smirk as he tugs gently on his husband’s hair. </span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“Yeah,” Ian agrees, “That alright with you, Groomzilla?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“Ay, fuck off, man, it turned out okay. Didn’t see you wanting to pick out flowers and shit, somebody had to do it.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“It turned out perfect. You’re perfect.” Fuck, he really is being cheesy, nuzzling his face into Mickey’s neck and giving it a soft kiss.</span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“Jesus, man, we’re married for a couple hours and you turned into a fuckin’ princess,” Mickey laughs. “Wait till I’m on my bullshit again, you’re gonna take that back real fast.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“Nope, get used to it, Milkovich. I’m basically a housewife now,” he mumbles into Mickey’s neck. They’ve stopped their rocking back and forth by now, just holding onto each other as the song changes to yet another cheesy ballad.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“Gallagher,” Mickey says quietly, and Ian looks up at him in confusion.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“What?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“You called me Milkovich. It’s Gallagher now,” he says shyly, and Ian feels a wide smile bloom on his face.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“Seriously? We haven’t talked about it- I mean, you don’t have to, I love your name, I figured we’d just keep them-“</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“I want to, man,” Mickey interrupts. “We should have the same last name, and there’s no fuckin’ way I’m gonna stop calling you Gallagher. I already filed the paperwork shit. It was supposed to be a wedding present, I dunno.”</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">“I love it. I love you,” Ian says softly, and he smiles as he moves in for a gentle kiss.</span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">And he may still be grieving and he may always be burdened with his illness and he might never forgive himself for the shit he did in their past, but in this moment, holding onto his husband on their wedding day and listening to a cheesy love song, he’s the happiest he’s ever fucking been.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Find me on tumblr if u want ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ @zoinkstothemax</p></blockquote></div></div>
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